


Priest

by writteninhaste



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-25
Updated: 2014-08-25
Packaged: 2018-02-14 16:30:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2198889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writteninhaste/pseuds/writteninhaste
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Old Religion must always have a priest...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Priest

Merlin is in the forest, picking herbs for Gaius, when he sees her, a young maiden; her beauty at once both wholesome and ethereal. She dances in the dappled glade and as she twirls, Merlin sees another take her place. A boy, still young enough to spend most of his days by his mother’s side; he too is dancing. A flicker of light and shade, and the boy is now a wizened man leaning on a cane. Merlin blinks and a woman stands before him, a babe held in her arms. She is not dancing.

She stands, skirts sweeping across the forest floor, the child in her arms nestled against her breast. She catches Merlin’s eye, and with one hand beckons the young warlock towards her. Merlin goes, though he does not remember instructing his feet to move. As he draws closer he can see the images of the others that came before her. It is like fairy glamours piled one atop the other, faint enough that they are not immediately seen, but real enough that Merlin can ascertain the details of the hair and skin.

He stumbles to a halt, staring at the woman who is simultaneously less than and more than that. She smiles, and that simple action is both welcome and terrifying. In her eyes he can see the autumn harvest and the spring-time rains, the summer heat and the deadly chill of winter.

Merlin knows he is in the presence of the Old Religion. He wonders if he should bow, do something to show his respect. But ever since his time at the Isle of the Blessed, Merlin has vowed never to be subservient to this force as Nimueh was. He will have master other than Arthur.

Something of this must show on his face, for the Old Religion’s smile twists and becomes cruel. Before he can move, the Old Man is standing before him, gripping his jaw with a strength no mortal creature could possess.

“Priest.”

The word is hissed between yellow and missing teeth. It is a word of ownership, an attempt to claim him. Merlin can smell the scent of life and the stench of death in the breath that ghosts across his cheek.

Merlin knows that he should kneel in deference to this ancient weight – should heed to call of those who claim him as their kin. But he cannot bring himself to do so. He has no wish to control life and death – has no wish to be a vassal of the Earth.

_“Priest.”_ The word is repeated, and Merlin forces himself to shake his head, feeling his jaw bruise as he fights the Old Religion’s grip.

The maiden appears before him, her eyes full of contempt, and in that instant Merlin knows this was not an offer. He had never been given a choice. He had killed Nimueh – he must take her place. The power is his whether is wants it or not. He bows his head in defeat.

The little boy tucks his hand into Merlin’s and smiles at him. The Old Religion has its priest.

 


End file.
